


Nobody Is Going To Catch Feelings

by Basingstoke



Series: Frenemies with Benefits [2]
Category: DC's Legends of Tomorrow (TV)
Genre: Canon Bisexual Character, F/M, Oral Sex, Post-Episode: Marooned, Queer Het
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-03
Updated: 2016-04-03
Packaged: 2018-05-31 02:30:44
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,363
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6451939
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Basingstoke/pseuds/Basingstoke
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Being emotionally naked is better when you're also physically naked.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Nobody Is Going To Catch Feelings

Snart has been quiet since he killed Mick. 

Sara gives him room for a while, lets him grieve, lets him breathe. She doesn't try to spar. 

Eventually, though, he finds her sharpening knives. "Want to go somewhere quiet and make it loud?" he asks. 

"I've had worse offers," she answers. 

She takes him back to her room and stows her knives. He admires the unstrung longbow on her wall. She takes off her boots, tosses them into the corner, thump, thump. He doesn't react. 

She looks at the tense line of his back, the knots of his shoulders under his heavy coat, the nakedness of his shorn head. "If you really just want a hug, I won't tell," she says. 

He stills, his back turned to her. "He was an idiot," he says. 

"He pretended to be." 

"He was a murderer," he says. 

"So are we." 

"He was a monster," he says. 

"He was your monster." 

"I had to do it," he says. 

"I know." 

Snart turns around. He looks tired. He looks older than he did a week ago. "Would you mind if I just gave you head until you pass out?" he asks.

"Sure, boo," Sara says. 

*

After she's come twice she tries to grab his head. Her hand scrabbles off his buzzed hair. 

He stops anyway. "Already?" 

"Mngh." 

"My jaw doesn't even hurt," he says, folding his hands over her thigh, resting on his elbows. "Women are much easier than men." 

She exhales. Her clit is throbbing in short electric shocks. "Not what most men say." 

"Most men don't pay attention." 

"Well." She considers. "You have a point." 

"Making you come is easier than planning a heist," he says. He rubs his stubbly cheek against her thigh. "More difficult than a holdup, though. Holdups are kid stuff." 

Sara smiles at the ceiling. "What about a museum robbery? I hear those are easy." 

"They are. About as difficult as blowing a man. Easy to plan but physically strenuous." 

She laughs. 

"Have you ever tried to crouch motionless on a toilet seat? You get muscle cramps." 

She keeps laughing. She lets him open her thighs and slide two fingers inside her, lets him start again, lets him focus on her snatch and ignore everything else. 

*

Eventually, her hair soaked in sweat, she hauls him up her body and brings him off with her hand and her hip. 

She doesn't pass out. She takes a moment to meditate. 

(That's her story and she's sticking to it.)

*

Snart lies beside her, shoulder to shoulder in the dark. The air is dry and therefore chilly. With the lights out, the darkness is absolute. It feels like a cave. 

(It feels like death.) 

She focuses on the man beside her, his breath, his warmth. If she shifts her arm slightly, she can feel the fine hairs on their forearms whisper past each other. 

“It felt _good_ when I killed my father,” he says. "Righteous. Earned." 

“I heard he put a bomb in your sister?”

“Yeah. Do heroes gossip as much as villains do?” 

“At least. We call it debriefing though, or information-sharing, and pretend it's work."

"I knew it," he says. 

He's silent for a moment. His knuckles move against the back of her hand, bones under delicate skin. He says, “I had regrets. I regretted that I could never make him apologize to my sister. I regretted that I couldn't give back every moment of terror he gave us. But it was worth it to see the look of betrayal on his face as he died with a four foot icicle through his heart. God, I hate him."

Sara laces her fingers in his. There's nothing she can say to that. 

"Mick was my first."

"First?" 

"First time I had sex. This isn't a sad story," he says. 

"Good." 

"I saw him and I knew I wanted to keep him. He beat up the guys who were beating me up, so I took him into the janitor's closet and blew him. He thought he could make me his bitch, but that never quite worked out for him, especially once we both found out he liked a finger in his ass. When we got out, the first thing I did was buy a can of Crisco and fist him. After that he was mine for life."

"God damn," she says, laughing. She can picture it, skinny little soft-faced baby Snart, the stunned look on Mick's face. "And you were fourteen?"

"Mm-hm. I've been outthinking my father since I was eight. Different tactics with Mick, but the same kind of man." 

"Not the same. You found something in Mick to love." 

He pauses; he is silent. His thumb rubs over the side of her hand. "He was mine," he says finally. "I don't think that's love."

"It says 'be mine' on Valentine's Day cards."

"I would do anything for my sister. I would cut off my head to keep her safe and secure. I would never hurt her. And I hurt him more than once. More than twice. I betrayed him in the end. No, I didn't love him. He was just mine."

"Part of you?"

"As much a part of me as my gun."

"There's more than one kind of love. I think you did love him, you just loved him with open eyes. You knew what he was. You love your sister like a parent loves a child. You loved Mick like a man." 

"Hm."

She's cooling off. She pulls the blanket up and over them both. "Want to stay?" 

He doesn't answer, but he doesn't leave, and he doesn't move when she rests her head on his shoulder. 

*

In the morning, she climbs onto his back and finger-fucks him before breakfast. 

She presses her cheek to his shoulder blade and admires his round ass. Her forearm is darker than the pale skin of his back. Her thigh, planted between his legs, is lighter. He's twice her bulk, but he sways with every movement of her fingers. She's always liked that about men. 

She kisses his ribs. "Good?" 

"Yes." 

"How good?" 

"Fuck me, stud," he says.

"Sure, honey." She kneels up, free hand planted on his back, and she fucks him like the kind of porn she'd like to see more of. 

When he's close, his neck flushed and sweat prickling up in the small of his back, he grabs for his cock and pumps, and she reaches forward and presses her free hand to his mouth, so her knuckles are firmly housed in his ass and her fingertips are caught between his wet tongue and his teeth and she encompasses him as he comes. 

She curls over and around him afterwards, loathe to move. He runs his tongue over her fingertips, then pulls back slightly and kisses them. "Keep going?" she asks. 

"Your call, stud. You feel good." 

"So do you." She curls into his body, her face pressed against his damp spine. She can feel his heart beating through his ribs. She wonders if he can feel hers. 

(Probably not.)

"You never said...do you like women? Usually?" 

"I don't like most people, male or female. But the things I like don't belong to men or women."

"Oh, rejecting labels, very modern." 

"No. I'm too old for labels. Seen too much shit," he says, and he laughs softly, and she joins him. 

She flexes her fingers and listens to him sigh. "I like how big men are. I miss that when I'm with women. But when I'm with men, I miss everything else."

"Clearly you need to hit on bigger women."

"I like muscle." 

"When we get back I'll introduce you to Grace Choi. She's a meta, works as a bouncer. Over six feet tall. Shoulders like a supporting wall." 

"Ooh." She flexes her fingers again and he groans. "Keep going?" 

"No," he says, so she eases her fingers free. 

She washes her hands at the sink. Snart sits up against the wall. "How well do you know the Flash?" he asks. 

"Never met him." 

"Mm. I need some new muscle. I'm thinking of corrupting him." 

"You think you can? He seems earnest." 

"Maybe. He has daddy issues. I can work with that." 

She looks at him. "Oh can you, papi?" 

"Stop." 

"Baby girl needs approval of my life choices." She bats her eyes relentlessly, her lips pursed. 

"It's more attractive from the Flash." 

"I feel obliged to thwart you." She scrubs under her nails. She should have worn gloves, but she's bad at safe sex at the best of times. She's lucky she didn't have Oliver's feral island baby. 

"He needs his balls touched more often. I broke into his house last year. There's only one pillow on his bed and he still has Star Wars posters on the wall. I would suck the soul out of that dick." 

Sara doesn't even know the Flash's real name. "Thwart," she says, snapping the wet towel at Snart's head. She follows the towel with a full body naked tackle. "Honestly, I don't know him," she says into his mouth. 

"He's a very cute, very earnest boy."

"Leave him alone and fuck me instead." 

"Sara," he says.

She butts her head against his. She bites his jaw softly.

"Don't be a martyr with me. Be a Roman," he says. 

"I am."

"Sara." He pulls her hair. 

She jerks her head from his grasp. She pins him to the wall with her forearm across his neck and her nails curled into his carotid artery. 

He doesn't move. 

"Leave the Flash alone," she says. "On GP. And trust that I'm doing exactly what the hell I want." 

He meets her eyes, barely breathing. 

She breaks her hold. She sits back on her knees, straddling his thighs. They look at each other. 

"Maybe the Flash can make me a good man through the power of his cock," Snart says. 

"Don't be stupid." 

He smirks. "I can change." 

"Only if you want to change." 

"Well, that's an excellent point." 

She stands up. "Come on, let's get some breakfast." 

*

Snart washes up and they go to get some granola. Ray is there, which is always fun. He's reading the spaceship manual. 

Snart eats his food cubes with relish. "This place is spoiling me. I'm going to cry next time I go to prison." 

"The food is that bad? I haven't been in American prisons," Sara says. 

"School lunch minus the flavor." 

"I liked school lunch," Ray says. 

Snart looks at him. "I'm talking about the free lunch provided to disadvantaged youth such as myself." 

"Oh." Ray sags in his chair. Snart winks at Sara. 

"I never had school food, actually. Mom made us bag lunches every day until we went to college," Sara says. "She put in little notes with stickers and things." 

"Oh, that's sweet," Ray says. 

Snart shakes his head. "So what prisons have you been in, Canary, if not American?" 

"Illegal medical experimentation ship. We ate a lot of gruel." 

"Mm. Sounds worse than Iron Heights." 

"Do they vivisect people in Iron Heights?" 

"No." 

"Then mine is worse." 

"Respect," Snart says. 

Ray looks horrified. 

Snart sneaks a glance at Ray. "What kind of medical experimentation?" he asks. Snart is a god damn troll. 

"Trying to replicate a serum that gives you super-strength and super-healing. It didn't work. I was lucky, though, I was doctor's pet. Went from a prisoner to a guard." 

"Better food as a guard?" 

"No, but we got booze, so it didn't matter." 

"I'll drink to that." He raises his coffee cup. 

"Uh, the prison food in Nanda Parbat is really good," Ray says.

"It is good. The prisoners get the same food as the League, since they don't believe in indulgence. Rice and vegetables all around," Sara says. 

"But when H.I.V.E. captured me, it was pretty rough. They gave me unwieldy food like whole blueberries and pepperoni slices. It would go bad before I finished. I had to pee into a thimble." 

Snart and Sara both look at him blankly. 

"I should probably have mentioned that they captured me when I was miniature." 

"Right," Sara says. 

"Did they loom over you and cackle?" Snart asks. 

"All the time, how did you know?" 

"It's what I would do." He glances at Sara, a half smile on his lips. 

"Stop thinking about putting the Flash in a fishbowl," Sara says sternly. 

Snart grins. "I'd give him a hamster wheel. I'm not a monster." 

"I would feel obliged to fight you if you captured the Flash, even if you are my friend," Ray says. 

"Would you be less conflicted if I remind you we're not friends?" 

"Anyone who saves my life is my friend." 

Snart rolls his eyes. "Then Mick is your friend, not--" He breaks off; something flickers over his face, and he goes still. "We all make choices, though." 

Ray tilts his head to one side. "Yeah, we do." He sticks out his hand. "Friend." 

Snart looks at his hand. He doesn't take it; he stands up; he leaves. 

"Snart," Sara says, but he keeps walking. "Cold." 

He's gone. 

Sara sighs. "He's in a bad place." 

"We should have found another option." 

"Well, we didn't."

"Maybe...we can go back, right after Mick was shot, and snatch him up and heal him. Freezing leaves the body intact. There's a chance, at least, if we know where he is. When he is. I could get the information from the jump ship records, we could sneak down--" 

"Or we can just ask Snart if that's what he wants to do," Sara says. "Like adults." 

Ray closes his mouth. "Or that." 

"I'll talk to him later. We get each other." 

"Of course." He shakes his head, looking distressed. "You're right. I don't know why I would jump to subterfuge." 

"It's what happens when you put on a mask," Sara says. "It shapes who you are underneath." 

*

But she didn't talk to Snart before the ship left her behind. 

She thinks of masks as she travels to Nanda Parbat. Masks and the ship. She wonders how they died. She wonders how she will live. 

*

End.

**Author's Note:**

> My Twitter: [@Basinke](https://twitter.com/Basinke). Talk to me! 
> 
> My Tumblr: [basinke](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/basinke). Look at things I have looked at!


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